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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23324431">Wine Down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonestarjdv/pseuds/QuantumAbyss_mal'>QuantumAbyss_mal (lonestarjdv)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:22:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,605</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23324431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonestarjdv/pseuds/QuantumAbyss_mal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro is smitten with a new assistant faculty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allura/Lance (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shiro worked the room at the faculty fall mixer like the de facto host, checking in with acquaintances and colleagues he hadn’t seen over the long months of summer, balancing a glass of red in his prosthetic hand, a cab that they had bottled in his first year as an undergraduate. Almost too old now, but it brought waves of nostalgia in every sip. </p><p>Shiro traced connections and community across every face and corner in the room. There was the medieval lit faculty that he’d helped with wine choices to pair with readings. The sensory professor he did guest lecture for every other semester. There was the assistant prof that was working toward tenure and appreciated the splits that he snuck out of the campus winery when research hours were just too much. And the tech and engineering adjunct that repaired the stainless tanks when they needed new welds. </p><p>The background noise of the conversation, the camraderie, and the light buzz from the wine (he’d been so excited he’d only eaten a handful of almonds earlier), filled Shiro with a deep sense of contentment. He didn’t even notice the stranger posted up against the wall next to him, regarding Shiro with amusement as he smiled benevolently over the proceedings. </p><p>When the stranger straightened against the wall, Shiro actually startled, finally noting the long, lean man in dark skinny jeans and a fitted black tee. The man stretched like a cat, violet eyes sparkling behind a shaggy curtain of blue-black hair. Shiro took some long blinks. How had he NOT noticed him? Shiro prided himself on knowing everyone, which was no small feat at a university this size, and he had never seen this man before. The stranger looked up through his fringe of hair at Shiro expectantly. Shiro remembered himself and cleared his throat. </p><p>He held out the hand not curled around his wine, his flesh hand. “Takashi Shirogane, faculty, viticulture and enology. You can call me Shiro.” </p><p>The man wrinkled his (adorable) nose a little when Shiro said viticulture and enology. Shiro was used to it. People normally pegged him as a snob when he told them his entire life was about wine. </p><p>Tall-ish, dark and handsome was still looking at Shiro but hadn’t moved to introduce himself or take his hand. Shiro was patient. Sometimes people got stuck looking at the scar across the bridge of his nose or the white streak in his otherwise dark hair or his prosthetic arm. Shiro rarely considered that people took an extra beat to look at him just because he was gorgeous, strong broad everything with soft eyes and a kind smile. He took the time to study the other man’s features, sharp angles softened by long dark lashes and an ever present, but somehow endearing, smirk. Shiro finally cleared his throat and extended his hand just a touch more. </p><p>Mystery man reached out and gripped Shiro’s hand with his. Warm and strong. “Keith Kogane. Mechanical engineering assistant professor. You can call me Keith.” </p><p>“Oh, so you’re the new faculty over there. Welcome,” Shiro chuckled, effortlessly assuming the host mantle again. “Can I get you something to drink?” Shiro gestured with his wine glass. </p><p>Another (adorable) nose wrinkle. “I’m more of a beer person.” </p><p>“Maybe you just haven’t met the right wine.” Shiro responded. </p><p>“Don’t you mean tasted? I haven’t tasted the right wine?”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Shiro cocked an eyebrow like maybe that wasn’t actually what he meant. “You should come to my intro to winemaking class next week if you have time. We try a lot of different flavors that help identify wines you’ll like. In fact, let me try right now. What kind of beer do you like?”</p><p>Keith’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Um. IPA?”</p><p>Shiro nodded, considering. “Of course. Give me one minute,” he motioned for Keith to stay put, and Keith, surprised even at himself, stayed put. </p><p>He leaned back into the wall and crossed his arms, watching Shiro traverse the room to the table of drinks and back, stopping along the way with little greetings and friendly gestures, more difficult on the return with a glass in each hand, but he managed, his fondness for each person in the room broadcast in every interaction. The sleeves of Shiro’s button down were rolled up to his elbows, and Keith spent equal time studying the flex of his flesh forearm and the dull, metallic shine of his prosthetic. </p><p>When Shiro finally returned, he squinted at Keith, then presented a glass of white wine. </p><p>Keith looked at the glass and at Shiro. He reached for the glass with skepticism. “Oh, you got me. I’m secretly a suburban housewife. And here I was just starting to like you.”</p><p>“Very funny. Just try it. Also, there’s nothing wrong with suburban housewives.”</p><p>Keith lifted the glass to take a gulp of the wine and noticed mid-drink that Shiro had a slightly distressed expression.</p><p>“Am I doing this wrong?” he asked, nose still buried in the glass.</p><p>“No? Yes?” Shiro smiled. “We’ll work on it. What do you think?”</p><p>“Not as bitter as an IPA. I like bitter, but something about this is...nice? Fruity? But tangy fruity.”</p><p>“Yeah. You have a great palate. Have you ever—“</p><p>Shiro is interrupted by a a shiny presence to his right.</p><p>A petite blonde woman came out of nowhere and grabbed Keith’s hand, twining her fingers in his. She positively beamed up at him and he smiled down at her. “Time to go,” she said. Keith looked up at Shiro apologetically and returned the glass of Sauvignon blanc.</p><p>“Thanks! It was nice to meet you. Hey, when was that class? I’ll try to make it.” Keith called over his shoulder as he was dragged away.</p><p>“Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2:45. Tech 3.” Shiro responded, suddenly feeling desperately alone in a room full of his closest friends, a wine glass in each hand.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So who was tall dark and prickly?” Allura asked as she and Shiro finished set up for the sensory evaluation portion of his winemaking class. </p><p>A lot of students took the class as a fun elective and Shiro tried hard to make it engaging and incorporate experiences that students would use as touchstones long beyond his class. The first exercises each semester were pretty rudimentary. They wouldn’t even touch wine until week 6. The long stainless tables in the lab were lined with tasting cups, each with either a tablespoon or so of liquid or a slice of a fruit or vegetable. Shiro was still pouring vinegar solution into the last couple cups and Allura was eating every other apple slice as she finished filling her cups and placing them on trays for distribution.</p><p>“If you eat all the apples, you have to cut more yourself,” he admonished.</p><p>Allura waved him off as she shoved another slice of apple into her mouth. “You haven’t answered my question.”</p><p>“I’m not sure who you’re talking about. I met a tall and dark the other night, but nobody prickly.”</p><p>“Hmmm,” Allura mused. “Was he the new engineering faculty? I’ve heard stories.” </p><p>“You’ve always heard stories. You hang out too much at the Rec Center. He was fine.”</p><p>“Fine for you, maybe, Mr. Everyone-Likes-Me Shirogane, but that was the first time anyone in his department had seen him outside his interview and his office, and as far as I saw, he only talked to you, and even that, briefly. Please tell me you invited him to class.”</p><p>Shiro blushed and smiled a little over his tasting cups. </p><p>“Oh my god, you did! You invited him to class. Oh Shiro. That’s your move. ‘Hey baby, let me teach you how to taste.’” Allura actually squeals. “Where is it? where is it?” Allura started rummaging in drawers.</p><p>Shiro went rigid where he was standing and held his arms at his sides. Allura looked askance at him and started patting his pockets. There was a tell-tale crinkle in the chest pocket on his fleece vest. Allura crowed and pulled a paper envelope with fresh cilantro out of it.</p><p>“I knew it! This is your closer! I hope he doesn’t taste soap. We know that’s a dealbreaker.” </p><p>“It’s not like that. I don’t even know if he—you know. You saw the girl. The way he smiled at her.”</p><p>“All I saw was how he dove into your eyes when you introduced yourself and didn’t come up for air for a full minute. Maybe the girl means something, maybe she doesn’t. We’ll see. Didn’t HE ask YOU for the details about the class?”</p><p>“You’re sweet Allura.”</p><p>“That’s what they say,” she called over her shoulder as she gathered her bag and headed for the door. “I’ll text you after class.”</p><p>The door closed behind Allura with a soft whush of air. Shiro sighed and tried not to get his hopes up. The class would be great no matter what. Always a crowd pleaser, and it was a delight to watch people’s faces light up when they discovered the difference between flavors with and without their sense of smell. One of the best parts of teaching. </p><p>Whether he showed up or not.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The promised text from Allura came through at 4:08. Shiro had just locked the classroom and stepped into lab service to put away the trays and wash the last of the glassware when his phone pinged. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>well? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>no show. :(<br/></em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>his loss. dinner plans?<br/></em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>pretty beat. should probably just have leftovers and crash. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>moper no moping. class tomorrow?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>sure, see you in the morning. <br/><br/><br/></em>
</p><p>Shiro pocketed his phone, put the last piece of clean glassware away, leaned against the counter, and took a deep breath. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed, but he tried to focus on the promising parts of the class instead of the one glaring omission. The third year, for instance, who clearly hadn’t seen the outside of her lab. She looked like she’d never eaten fresh food in her life based on how her eyes flew open every time she unpinched her nose and could actually taste the food in her cup. </p><p>Shiro smiled in spite of himself.<br/><br/></p><p>He flipped off the lights in lab service and locked the door. He turned down the hall toward the classroom to double check that he’d locked it, and his heart jumped into his throat.</p><p>Keith was sitting on the bench outside the dark classroom, folded over his phone, chewing his bottom lip, heel tapping against the floor. It echoed in the empty half-light of the hallway. Shiro considered just turning in the other direction. Pretending he’d never seen him. Pretending he hadn’t spent the last hour and a half checking the clock every 5 minutes, waiting for a glimpse of floppy dark hair and black-clad shoulders sliding into the back of his classroom. </p><p>Instead of bolting, he marshaled all of his established-scion-of-the-university energy, to push down his nerves and just be normal and casual and friendly when he approached Keith. Just. Be. Normal. </p><p>“Hey, you missed class today.” </p><p>Keith hadn’t heard Shiro approach and leaped off the bench, fumbling his phone.</p><p>“Oh! You’re still here! I came. But I was really—I was late, obviously, and the classroom was dark—Campus is so big—And there’s no parking—did you know there’s a TEACH 3? Yeah, there is. It’s not close to this building.”</p><p>Keith trailed off and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. His eyes were fixed on the floor. “Listen to me. I sound exactly like what I tell my students NOT to sound like.”</p><p>Shiro chuckled. His nerves were gone.</p><p>“Shiro, I’m sorry. I wanted to be here. I’m disappointed that I didn’t make it in time. Look,” he held up his phone, where Shiro’s faculty directory listing was on the screen. “I was going to go to your office and leave you a note or call you, if I could work up the courage, and now here you are,” he finished, breathless. “Why am I telling you all this?” Keith mused our loud. He swallowed and looked down the hall, likely for an escape route. “Is there something I can do to make it right?”</p><p>Shiro shoved aside a couple less than pure thoughts that were probably (definitely) too soon to voice. “Well, I do need to eat. Wanna grab dinner?” Shiro motioned toward the door. </p><p>“What, right now?” Keith responded.</p><p>“Sure, why not?”</p><p>“Shiro, it’s like, 4:30. Only my grandpa eats dinner at 4:30.”</p><p>Shiro’s face lit up, and the tilt of his lips turned mischievous.  “Perfect! Happy hour.”</p><p>A short walk later, they were crammed into a miniscule booth, one of five tables total, at the smallest Thai restaurant Keith had ever seen. Shiro looked almost comical, towering over the tiny table, lit by twinkling fairy lights, considering the menu.</p><p>Keith hadn’t even bothered to look at the menu when Shiro waved over the nearest server. </p><p>“Any dietary restrictions?” Shiro asked as the server crossed the room to them. </p><p>“Nothing critical, like I’m not deathly allergic to anything, but I don’t eat a lot of red meat.”</p><p>“How do you do with spicy?”</p><p>“Uhhhhh, like a 4?”</p><p>“Do you want to do wine, or would you rather have something else?” </p><p>“Am I allowed to do wine, or do I have to take the class first?”</p><p>“This could be the class, if that sounds like...fun? We could consider it your make-up.”</p><p>“My make up for a class I’m not taking?”</p><p>“Sure.” Shiro smiled. </p><p>“I’m in as long as you don’t mind. I don’t want to make you work off hours.”</p><p>“I love this.” And he clearly did. It was worth playing along just to watch Shiro’s face light up with wonder and excitement.</p><p>“If you’re game, I’m in. I just don’t want to be weird or pedantic.” </p><p>“Too late,” But Keith smiled,too.</p><p>Shiro ordered all the appetizers at a 6, and one of everything from the wine section of the happy hour menu.</p><p>10 glasses of wine arrived at the table. Not full. Shiro had said something to the server that Keith hadn’t understood, but apparently resulted in less wine in each glass, which was merciful. </p><p>It was still overwhelming. Shiro arranged them in the center of the table from what appeared to be lightest to darkest. One of them sparkled and fizzed. </p><p>“Crash course,” he announced. He looked up at Keith.</p><p>Keith cocked an eyebrow and looked back. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to get me drunk.” He shifted his leg under the table to bump against Shiro’s. Innocent enough to be an accident. Purposeful enough to spread heat up the side of Shiro’s leg where they touched. <br/><br/></p><p>Shiro cleared his throat and thanked a higher power for the coverage of the table. Keith felt Shiro’s leg move away just a touch as Shiro composed himself. </p><p>“The point is not to drink all the wine. The point is to find the wine you like and drink that. Drinking wine, well drinking or eating anything really, is about all your senses. Before something even gets close enough to smell or taste, you see color and texture. You decide whether something is appealing or not, whether you want to get close enough to touch, smell or taste it,” Shiro’s eyes flicked up to Keith’s face and then looked away again quickly. Keith thought maybe he felt Shiro’s leg brush against his under the table. Shiro picked up the first glass and held it up to the light.</p><p>“We describe things using terms that are familiar to us, experiences, memories, existing associations. The more practice we have identifying and describing, the more accurate and evocative our descriptions become. For instance, instead of yellow, we can differentiate between straw, gold, linen.” </p><p>Shiro continued, looking from the wine glass to Keith periodically, checking to be sure he was still following, still engaged. Shiro’s voice was like a spell. This was a well-practiced incantation and Keith was transfixed. Finally, Shiro stopped speaking, breathed deeply from the glass, eyes closed, and then offered it to Keith. It took Keith a beat to realize that he needed to reach out and take the glass, and when he did, Shiro’s fingers lingered next to Keith’s as they passed the glass. Keith held the glass up to the light, eager to see what Shiro had seen. He swirled the glass a little less expertly than Shiro had done and then lowered his nose over the edge, closed his eyes and breathed deeply as Shiro had. </p><p>“What do you smell?” Shiro prompted, his attentive grin and naked curiosity melting any self-consciousness Keith might have felt. </p><p>“Dried orange fruit. Fuzzy but not peaches? They look like little orange discs?”</p><p>“Apricots?”</p><p>“Yeah, apricots.” Keith could remember having apricots on a hike at the Grand Canyon once. He liked them and found himself wondering why he didn’t eat them more often. </p><p>Shiro hummed. </p><p>“So now that we’ve looked and we’ve smelled, we taste. It’s important though that you keep smelling. Smell is an important part of taste.” Shiro took the glass back from Keith and repeated the routine—swish, closed eyes, sniff—then pressed his lips to the edge of the glass and tipped it back enough for Keith to get a stunning view of Shiro’s jawline and neck. It looked like Shiro held the wine in his mouth, the way you would with mouthwash, only more gentle. He took one more deep breath in, then swallowed the wine, opened his mouth and breathed deeply again.</p><p>So much breathing. “If we were tasting more than this, actually even for this much, we would normally spit out the wine, but we’re not going to drink all of this and we’re eating so we should be ok?” Shiro sounded a tiny bit uncertain.  </p><p>The server brought out four small plates of food and placed them on the table.</p><p>Keith noticed that Shiro was discreet but intentional about every piece of food or drop of drink that went in his mouth. He tore basil leaves and raised them to his nose to smell before scattering them over curry. He rolled sauces over his tongue and inside his cheek to get the feel of them. He ran his fingers over the edges of the plates before picking up the serving utensil and putting the food on his own plate. He closed his eyes every time a forkful of food passed his lips. And he breathed deeply and evenly through it all. Keith felt as though he was witnessing some kind of ceremony. It was worshipful. </p><p>Shiro noticed that Keith was keen and observant. He picked up tiny motions and inclinations that had taken Shiro years to master and made them look as though he had been born doing them. </p><p>As the level of wine in the glasses diminished, so did the physical space between Keith and Shiro at the table. They reached across one another to serve, passed wines back and forth, and after a few tentative, electric brushes, their knees were now pressed firmly against one another in the cramped space beneath the tabletop. Shiro reached up to wipe basil from the corner of Keith’s mouth with his thumb, Keith’s chin cradled in his other fingers. Keith froze, his eyes locked on Shiro, flush creeping up his neck. </p><p>Shiro’s hand lingered, thumb brushing across Keith’s cheek. He started to lean across the table. Keith’s eyelids were half closed when he noticed the time on Shiro’s watch. He rocketed back in his seat.</p><p>“Shit! Is that the time? How is it already nearly nine? I’ve got to get back to my office!” </p><p>Keith stood and pulled cash out of his wallet to leave on the table. Shiro picked up the cash and handed it back to Keith. </p><p>“This is on me. You can buy next time.” </p><p>Keith hesitated, then grabbed the cash and turned to go.</p><p>Oh!” Shiro reached out and touched Keith’s wrist as he walked away. “You should come to Allura’s class with me tomorrow morning. She teaches intervals at the Rec center.” He picked up his phone. “What’s your number? I’ll send you the details.”</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">When Shiro was sure any danger of Keith returning had passed, he pushed their table against Keith’s bench, the thump of the table against the bench echoing in the now-empty restaurant. He stretched across the remainder of his bench, legs finally free, blocking half the walkway. </span>He sighed, looked up at the ceiling, and closed his eyes.</p><p class="p2">Soft footsteps approached and the scrape of a chair dragged across the floor to his table announced the arrival of another person at Shiro’s side.  When he tilted his head down and opened his eyes, the restaurant owner, affectionately deemed Hunk, was seated a friendly distance <span class="s1">away offering him a plate of mango and sticky rice.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">”Hey man. What’d you say to that guy?” The corner of his mouth was turned up and his eyes sparkled with laughter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, you saw that, huh?” Shiro moaned, hiding his face in his hands. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hunk waggled his fingers. “We, the denizens of the kitchen, see all,” he intoned. “I’ve never seen a dude run from you that fast. Actually,” Hunk considered. “I’ve never seen a dude run from you period.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re gonna do Allura’s class tomorrow morning.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?! I thought you liked that guy?!?Better you then me, man,” Hunk said as he stood, rubbing absently at his stomach.“Hey, can you come by Friday afternoon. The distributor is swinging by and I want to change up the bubbles on the menu.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure. I can swing by after lab at 2.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Great man. Good luck tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Hunk looked serious as he clapped Shiro on the shoulder then turned back to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I borrowed heavily from night+market’s wine selections. There owner had a great interview in Vogue. The menu and article are linked below if you’re looking for more to read! </p><p>Article: https://www.vogue.com/article/drink-wine-with-thai-food-pairings</p><p>Menú: http://www.nightmarketsong.com/weho-dinner</p><p>I wanted to use the wine list from Holy Basil in NYC, buy they are closed. :(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's some Allurance here, just so you know.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Shiro found Keith at the Rec Center standing in the long hallway of empty group exercise rooms, long t-shirt hanging down over his black leggings.  </p><p>“Looks like class is cancelled,” Keith said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to the dark, rooms. </p><p>“These rooms are too small for Allura’s class,” Shiro grinned and pressed a yoga mat and jump rope to Keith’s chest.  “Follow me.” He walked to a staircase at the end of the hallway and started toward the second level, the main gym floor. </p><p>Keith appreciated the view as Shiro climbed the stairs ahead of him. Shiro looked over his shoulder to be sure Keith was still following, as if he might evaporate between the first and second floors. Keith thought idly of Orpheus and Eurydice. It was a good thing they were only going to a workout and not trying to escape from hell. Shiro gave him another smile and his heart fluttered. He couldn’t help but smile back.</p><p>“I hope you didn’t need to walk anywhere tomorrow.” Shiro stated suddenly. </p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>Shiro blushed realizing that that probably sounded filthy. He stopped on the stairs and turned to face Keith. “I just meant, you’ll probably be really sore tomorrow—I mean," Shiroran his hand through the floof of hair at his forehead. "—this is a really tough class.” Then silence and Shiro looked just about anywhere but Keith’s face. </p><p>Keith opened and closed his mouth like a fish at the surface of the water, then decided to leave it. He stared at Shiro. They spent another awkward beat on the stairs before Shiro exhaled and decided there would be no salvaging any part of that exchange and turned to continue up the stairs. Keith shook his head and smiled. Shiro was a disaster. It was kinda delightful. </p><p>Keith had only been to the main gym once before, for convocation a couple weeks previously. The space had been filled with faculty, two levels of bleachers looking down on a regulation basketball court with more seats and a stage. Now the bleachers had been pulled back to create cavernous spaces on the second level, and Allura’s class would be held in one of these. There was a small platform in the front, and nearly half the length of the room was already occupied, mats and water bottles placed territorially as their spandex clad owners chatted, waiting for the class to begin. A quick survey of the room revealed that, of the 80 to 100 people present, Shiro and Keith were likely the only men. Definitely the oldest people in the room. And probably the only two that didn’t belong to a sorority, if all the Greek letters emblazoned on workout gear were an indication.. </p><p>“Hey Shiro?”</p><p>Shiro turned and evaluated Keith’s expression. Skepticism? Confusion? Discomfort?</p><p>“I feel, underdressed?” </p><p>Shiro was unconcerned. He gave Keith an appraising look. “You’re fine.” He spotted a place for them and started threading his way through the sea of highlights and lululemon, easily catching Allura’s eye as he crossed the room. In addition to being male and old, he was also the tallest person in the room. </p><p>Allura and Shiro were already talking when Keith came up behind Shiro. Shiro stepped aside so that Keith could join the conversation and Allura’s expression when he came into her line of sight was difficult to discern. It seemed to be mostly surprise? Her eyes flew wide and then passed between Shiro and Keith several times before she seemed to reach a conclusion.  </p><p>Keith had set his mat down beside Shiro, but Allura picked it up and guided Keith by the elbow to the open space in front of Shiro, adjacent to the walk aisle. “Since you’re new, we’re going to put you here, so I can get to you better.” She was talking to Keith, but she kept shooting glances at Shiro, whose lips were pressed into a thin line. </p><p>“Allura, he and I can just switch.”</p><p>Allura shushed him. “I want to be able to get to you, too.” </p><p>Keith thought maybe Allura had already gotten to Shiro. </p><p>Having positioned Keith where she wanted him, she walked back toward the front, giving Shiro a look before she turned. </p><p>“Sorry, “ Shiro sighed. “She can be a brat sometimes.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Keith replied. He turned to look toward the front of the room, placed his feet shoulder width apart and folded in half, placing his palms flat on the floor. He wiggled his hips a little for Shiro’s benefit and gave him a wicked grin upside down from between his knees.</p><p>Shiro’s jaw went slack. This was going to be a long workout. </p><p>Allura stepped up onto the platform and pressed something at her ear that amplified her voice. </p><p>“Alright everyone.” Her voice was authoritative, and the room quieted as people drifted back to their mats, ready to begin. </p><p>“Today we’ll be doing ab intervals, focusing on strength, balance, and...” Keith could have sworn she looked in their direction “...flexibility.”</p><p>A collective groan sounded as Allura started moving through the warm-up and scrolling through her music options. </p><p>Keith turned to Shiro. “Should I be worried? Why do I feel like a bunch of sorority girls groaning means I should be worried?”</p><p>“Just take it easy and don’t use any weight this time. Allura’s no joke. I had to take the elevator to my office the first two weeks I took this class.”</p><p>“And it seemed like a good idea to invite me to this why?”</p><p>Shiro shrugged as he stretched his quad. “I like it. I thought you might like it.”</p><p>A top 40 dance remix blared over the loudspeakers. Oh. Keith was in hell. </p><p>Allura was ruthless and relentless. Even though Shiro had recommended he only use body weight for this first class, Keith thought surely he could handle 5 lb weights. After all, Allura was using 10. After the first 3 sets, the weights were forgotten on the ground next to him and his muscles were still shaking with the exertion or holding his own body in position. Based on the noises Shiro was making behind him, he wasn’t faring much better, although he was still picking up his weights for each set. The class was tougher than usual and Shiro was grateful he was forced to concentrate on something other than Keith’s lithe frame directly in front of him. Shiro could manage the weight portions, but flexibility was not his strength. He could touch his toes, but that was about the extent of it.  While he wasn’t able to give Keith his full attention during the workout he heard Allura’s praise for Keith’s form and effort as she passed, whereas she gave light touches to Shiro’s shoulders or hips where he needed to make corrections. Keith, though he was trembling, was able to hold things in place and press things to the ground that usually only the dancers in the class were able to manage. </p><p>Keith didn’t start cursing until the last 5 minutes of class. Shiro was pretty sure at his first class he had started at about the 30 minute mark when his quads nearly failed and his triceps burned so badly he thought he might have actually pulled something. </p><p>When Allura finally clapped her hands and congratulated everyone for surviving, Keith and Shiro were laid out on their mats. Women were packing up and streaming out all around them and Keith wondered why they didn’t seem as wrecked as he felt. Keith had just had his ass handed to him to a peppy pop soundtrack by a woman dressed in head to toe pink. </p><p>Allura came into view above them with a smiling man who clearly hadn’t just finished her class. He had a medium build like Keith but fairer and wore a  university baseball polo and sunglasses on a lanyard. Allura offered her hand to Keith and the man gave Shiro a hand up. </p><p>“Thanks Lance. Keith, this is Allura’s husband, Lance,” Shiro continued politely.</p><p>“Ahem,” Lance interrupted. “Allura’s husband and also coach of the NCAA championship baseball team.”</p><p> Shiro nodded and continued. “Lance, this is Keith Kogane, he’s new faculty over in engineering.”</p><p>Lance looked momentarily defeated, but recovered quickly. It was hard to stay upset while Allura was smiling at him. “Hey, nice to meet you man. I hope Allura didn’t work you guys too hard today. I caught the last 5 minutes and it looked pretty intense”</p><p>“You know you’re always welcome to join,” Allura cooed to her husband. </p><p>“You already kick my ass enough, babe. I don’t need you to do it at work, too,” Lance smiled.  </p><p>Allura leaned in and kissed him and he wrinkled his nose. </p><p>“Ugh. Sweaty”</p><p>“You like it,” she said and pulled him in again.</p><p>Lance smiled against Allura’s lips as they kissed. Keith started to feel a little uncomfortable. They were the last people left in the room and Allura and Lance seemed like maybe they wanted some privacy, but Shiro didn’t move. When Lance and Allura pulled apart, there was a wet mark where Allura had pressed up against him. She gave Lance a meaningful look and then said, "Hmmm, you’re all sweaty now. We should probably go change that shirt.” Lance looked at her like she was hopeless and also like he was the luckiest man in the world and then he waved a quick goodbye to Keith and Shiro as he and Allura headed in the direction of his office. </p><p>Shiro watched them leave. He was so happy they found each other, and that they were happy. He  smiled at their receding backs. Allura slid her hand down to rest over Lance’s butt and Shiro finally looked away. He felt a tug on his shirt. </p><p>Keith looked up at him, his thumb and index finger wrapped in the shirt’s hem. </p><p>Keith swallowed and said “You know, you’re pretty sweaty, too.” Nose wrinkle. “We should probably change this shirt.”</p><p>Keith’s meaning took a minute to get through to Shiro, and Keith enjoyed watching realization creep across his face, Shiro’s eyes going wide and dark. </p><p>“My office is just the next building over.” </p><p>Shiro nodded, gathered up his gear, and turned to follow Keith, fingers of his free hand laced loosely with Keith’s. </p><p>Keith was a man on a mission, and Shiro had to lengthen his stride to keep up. They didn’t speak, and as they took the glass elevator to Keith’s floor, Shiro thought his heart was pounding loudly enough that surely Keith could hear it. His fingertips felt electric where he made contact with Keith’s hand, and his thumb ran loose over Keith’s knuckles as they waited. </p><p>When Keith stepped off the elevator he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the hall. Shiro ran into him and almost knocked him over. </p><p>“Is everything alright?” Shiro stepped around Keith to determine why he had stopped. </p><p>The blonde from the party was standing at what Shiro  assumed was Keith’s office. </p><p>“Hey!” she gave them a perky little wave. Too perky for 9 in the morning. “I left my computer in your office last night and I came by to get it. I tried calling and texting, but you didn’t answer and I need it for class at 9:30. Normally you’re in your office by 9; so I just thought I’d swing by. I...didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” She looked at Shiro with curiosity. </p><p>Keith seemed to reboot. “Sure, of course.” He released Shiro’s hand and reached for his keys, then stepped forward, away from Shiro, to unlock the door. He pushed the door open and she stepped through without another word. Keith turned toward Shiro and shrugged. “Sorry. Class tomorrow afternoon?”</p><p>Shiro was still processing what had just happened. “Uh. Sure. You gonna show up late again?” The joke was a little forced. Shiro was desperately trying to make sense of what the woman had just said. What he was feeling. How to make this not weird.   </p><p>“Nah,” Keith said, looking at the floor. “I know where to park now. I’ll see you Shiro.” He stepped through the door and closed it behind him without looking at Shiro again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hope y'all like a little cheese with your wine.</p><p>Special thanks to Hiro, without whom this would almost certainly still be languishing in a drafts folder.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Keith became a regular fixture at the end of Shiro’s Tuesday/Thursday classes. He joked that he was just there for the snacks, but his eyes were soft when he leaned against the door jamb. And engineering was way the Hell on the other side of campus. There wasn’t even a Starbucks in Shiro’s building. Keith always stayed to help Shiro clean up, jostling playfully against him in the service lab and sneaking more little nibbles. Sometimes he would feed Shiro as they washed and put away dishware, pulling his fingers back just before they brushed across Shiro’s lips, wiping crumbs off on his jeans. They would go to happy hour and dinner then wave awkwardly at the end of each night and walk back to their respective homes. They didn’t talk about the blonde or really anything that happened after Allura’s class. It felt like a reset. And Shiro was okay with that. He could be patient.  Keith was working really hard toward tenure. Shiro remembered what that was like, and he was just happy Keith chose to come see him a couple times a week. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>\\</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God all this fluff is so boring. When are you going to dooooo something?” Allura whined as she swirled the last of her latte in the bottom of the cup. Her cheek was smushed into her eye where it rested on her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s never been like this before. I just want to talk to him all the time and be with him. I’m scared Allura. What if I kiss him and it changes things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up at Shiro over the edge of her cup. “What if you don’t kiss him and it changes things?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>\\</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro tried to ignore Allura, but as the days and weeks and eventually months passed and the semester was coming to a close, Shiro decided it probably wouldn’t hurt to have a conversation with Keith and at least clear up what happened at his office. The classroom didn’t seem like the right place to do it, and the restaurant was too cramped, too public. So Shiro invited Keith to dinner at his house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro heard the engine of Keith's motorcycle cut in the driveway, and glanced at the clock. Right on time. Keith had been impeccably punctual since that first class. He took stock of progress in the kitchen, not too difficult in the cramped galley, and then leaned out the doorway between the kitchen and entry to smile through the screen door as Keith walked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"C'mon in," he said as he held his hands up to indicate that he was messy from the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He noticed Keith shoot a glance at his truck in the driveway. Shiro rode a bike to campus every day, but needed something heavy duty for field work and consulting. Black was a dualie and took up more than half of the driveway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You couldn't find a bigger truck?" Keith asked as he toed off his boots inside the door. </span>
</p><p>"I need it for work. We haul a lot of equipment."</p><p>"Sure you're not compensating for anything?"</p><p>
  <span>Shiro actually spit out his wine. Luckily, he was standing over the sink when he did it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith chuckled and watched the progress of blush across Shiro’s cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith cleared his throat, “I’m sure you’re fine, Shiro. Nice apron, by the way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro steadied himself against the counter in an attempt to recover and gave Kieth a crooked smile. I've been told I look pretty hot in an apron, and I'll take any advantage I can get."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, like you need any more advantages." Keith said under his breath, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What was that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nothing," Keith said as he took a couple steps down the hall to give himself a tour while Shiro finished up in the kitchen, "Mind if I look around?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be quick, but feel free.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s house was a typical college town bungalow, but full of Shiro’s personal touches. Actual vintage posters from France and Italy, photos of family, corkboards made of corks with wine labels pinned to them, the requisite college paraphernalia. The furnishings were likely still Ikea, but matched and had throw pillows and cozy blankets. Keith could tell Shiro had been here a while and wasn’t planning to go anywhere else anytime soon. Keith wondered what that would be like, to stay somewhere. To want to stay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith returned to the kitchen and had to admit, Shiro did look hot. But then, Keith thought, Shiro always looked hot. In front of his class, shouldering open the door to the service room, washing glassware, swirling wine in his glass--Keith could go on. Now Shiro navigated the kitchen barefoot, his white button down rolled up to his elbows under a blue and white striped apron. Keith leaned against the entry to watch him work, enjoying the opportunity to observe him without a public audience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s supposed to rain tonight,” Shiro said. “If you want to move your bike into the garage. I can take you home in Black later.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith reluctantly tore his eyes away from where Shiro was slicing baguette, slipped his boots back on and headed for the garage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just watch the case of magnums on the floor there.” Shiro called from the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith froze with the door to the garage half open. All he saw on the floor was a box of oversized wine bottles. He figured that must be what Shiro was referring to. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Kogane.” He shook his head to clear it and moved his bike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith came back to the kitchen after the motorcycle was safely in the garage and picked up the bottle of wine on the counter. “Isn’t this the one I liked that first night we got Thai?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Shiro answered over his shoulder. I swung by the restaurant later that week and the distributor asked me if I was looking for anything special. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They just gave you this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Adam and I go way back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about the way Shiro said that made Keith raise an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ancient history.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like history” Keith replied, snagging something off the plate Shiro was preparing and biting into it. ”Tell me more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro sighed. “Adam and I are a long, boring story if you want to hear the whole thing. But the short version is that we broke up years ago when I went to New York and when I came back we agreed that our relationship wasn’t worth revisiting, He’s married now. And I’m happy for him and his husband.” Shiro finished arranging something on the plate and then turned and leaned against the counter to face Keith. “Now it’s your turn.  Can you tell me more about the someone leaving her computer in your office late at night on nights where you rush away from having dinner with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith nodded and pressed his lips together. “Ah, now that is not-so-ancient history, although it gets more distant daily.” He popped the last bit of food into his mouth and chewed contemplatively. He had been hoping that he could pretend the incident at his office hadn’t happened, but apparently not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you tell me more? So I can understand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s...complicated. We, Romelle and I, her name is Romelle, dated all through grad school and post-grad. She came here to get her JD. We were engaged; so this is where I applied for faculty positions. But then the whole...marriage thing...kinda fell apart.” Keith looked up to be sure that Shiro was still following, and he was watching Keith intently. “I’d already accepted the position here and I’ve never been good at making friends. We’re comfortable with each other. New places are hard and it was nice to have a familiar face. I never expected to meet...somebody. Not so soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You met somebody?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith leveled a look at Shiro. Seriously?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’m somebody?” Shiro pointed at himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to be?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah then, I’m thinking you’re definitely somebody.” Keith blushed. And then his stomach audibly rumbled.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, dinner,” Shiro started. He turned to pick up the tray he’d just arranged with a variety of  meats, nuts, fruits, and cheeses and a basket of bread and crackers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith patted him on the arm and gestured to the bottle of wine. “What about that one?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ve got a couple for us to try. Here,” he handed off the basket and tray and gestured toward the table, then moved to pick up the wine bottle and the opener on the counter next to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro was a little disappointed that the moment in the kitchen had passed. He still had more questions and hadn’t really had the opportunity to fully appreciate how pretty Keith was when he blushed. But Keith was standing by the table now waiting for Shiro, something expectant in his eyes, and Shiro felt like it was at least pretty clear that kissing Keith was on the table. He hoped the rest would come in time. And in that time, at least he would be kissing Keith. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Shiro had wine in glasses and had checked to be sure everything was in place, he and Keith began what had become a familiar routine. Keith loved being the object of Shiro’s undivided attention, and Shiro loved to watch Keith process and learn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Close your eyes,” Shiro said, “and focus on how it tastes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world went black, and Keith was startled at the difference it made. They had practiced this at dinner before, but there were a hundred other things going on at the restaurant. Shiro’s house was silent except for their breathing and the soft music playing in the background. He took a deep breath in and focused on the sensations in his mouth. He was acutely aware of Shiro’s eyes on him, observing his breath, the tiny expressions. He rolled the wine around in his mouth and tasted...felt? something familiar, acidic. From the Thai restaurant. Lime? Lemongrass? His brain shuffled through images, words, like a slot machine trying to make matches. Basil? He pressed his lips together and the corners turned up when he settled on the flavor. Lemon. Meyer lemon. Mmmmm. Like that lemon drop they had one of the first times they went to dinner. Way more subtle, but definitely there just at the edges of his tongue. The taste was good, but the memory was what filled him with warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith felt pressure on his knees. Shiro’s palms pressed into the top of each leg. Keith started to open his eyes, but Shiro clucked “Keep ‘em closed.” Shiro’s voice was close, low, and gravelly. Keith’s heart rate and breath picked up. He leaned forward and licked his bottom lip as Shiro ran his hands up his thighs. He took a deep breath in and smelled earth, dryer sheets, and fresh baked bread before he tasted them, Shiro’s lips warm and slick against his. When Keith opened his mouth, Shiro’s tongue was plush against his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pulled apart and took a moment for eyes to flutter open and focus again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that last one was my favorite.” Keith breathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a pretty early vintage,” Shiro said, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “but I think it’s got a lot of potential.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When the rain finally arrived, it came down in sheets, and blocked out the rest of the world--a fuzzy gray blanket around the house. It almost reminded Keith of home, except that this rain was cold and persistent, not like the intense but fickle monsoons of the desert. Everything about this night had felt like home. Every alarm bell in Keith’s brain, every defense mechanism was screaming “Run! Protect yourself! Nothing can be this good! This isn’t meant for you! It’s a trap! Focus on your work!” Except for the warm, pulsing voice underneath that urged, coaxed, beguiled. “Stay. You could just stay. Stay. ” Even in his jacket, he shivered standing outside under the patio cover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glass door slid open and Shiro walked toward Keith in the path of light spilling from the house. He reached around Keith to drape a blanket across his shoulders, waiting for Keith to grab the edges with his own hands to hold it fast, leaving his hand over Keith’s for just a moment before releasing the blanket to him completely. He stood behind Keith, and Keith felt safe, warm, protected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," Shiro said, appraising the weather, "we can load the bike in the truck and I can take you home, or I can take you home and bring you the bike when it stops raining, or you can come get it.” His voice dropped to a whisper and his hand ghosted over Keith’s shoulder. “Or you could stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith clutched the blanket more tightly around his shoulders as he turned to face Shiro, searching his face in the dim light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro had been pleased to find after that first kiss that maybe more than kissing was on the table, but Keith seemed hesitant now. Shiro did his best to keep his eyes neutral as he looked into Keith’s. “I’m having a good time, and I’m not really ready for tonight to be over. But I totally understand if you want to go home. Or if you want to stay, but stay in the guest room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course there’s a guest room. People told Keith he was always moving too fast, always rushing into things.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Shiro continued, “I want to be clear, though, that when I said stay, I was inviting you to stay with me, in my room, in my bed. Whatever you want. What do you want Keith?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith took a deep breath to quiet the competing voices in his mind. The rain thundered in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith dropped the blanket so he could wind his hands around Shiro’s neck. He pushed up on his toes and whispered “I want to stay” just before he pressed his lips to Shiro’s. “With you. In your bed.” When he felt Shiro relax and Shiro’s hands wind around his hips, Keith pressed up into Shiro’s lips again and opened his mouth. He took a deep breath in through his nose as he kissed him. Shiro tasted different outside in the rain. Everything he tasted like inside, but sharper, clearer somehow, and mixed with rain smells--damp and ozone. When he kissed his neck, he tasted salt and cinnamon and could smell Shiro’s shampoo, something evergreen. Maybe cedar? He buried his nose in Shiro’s shirt and took another deep breath. They stood for awhile, just holding each other, warm and dry while the rain pounded to earth around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro unwound himself from Keith’s arms and started to unbutton his shirt, backing away slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped into the house and left the shirt on the couch, then started to unbuckle his belt, walking away from Keith now as if this were the way he undressed every night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith followed Shiro and his trail of clothes down the darkened hall.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What happens after dinner. Sorry for the fade to black on the sexy stuff. It's on my list of development opportunities. </p><p>The rest of this story is written, I just have to polish and post. </p><p>Feel free to come and yell at me (in a nice way) in comments or on twitter: @quantumabyssmal</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shiro woke to soft gray morning light and the patter of rain on the bedroom window. Memories of the night before started to filter back slowly as the haze of sleep lifted. He could see his clothes, heaped in a pile by the bedroom door where Keith had dumped them. He remembered Keith’s hands against his bare skin, mapping his scars, his mouth following his fingers. Kisses trailing across his back, the breadth of his shoulders, the nape of his neck. What it felt like when Keith had finally pulled off his shirt behind him and then pressed his skin to Shiro’s, his palms dragging down Shiro’s chest, pulling him close. He looked down and Keith was peaceful now, tucked into the space between his arm and body, breathing deep and steady, the everpresent crease between his eyebrows smooth with sleep. Keith’s skin was warm, everywhere that it was pressed against Shiro under the covers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro bent his head to nose in the soft hair at the crown of Keith’s head and press a kiss there and Keith made a delightful little sleep noise and stretched up, chasing Shiro’s lips with the top of his head. He inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering, the arm not pinned under his body reaching across Shiro’s chest, long fingers outstretched. Shiro leaned down to  kiss Keith’s forehead, and when he pulled back, Keith’s eyes were trained on his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“G’morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was...nice.” Keith exhaled a shaky breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro chuckled, a low rumble Keith could feel as much as hear. “Just nice, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with nice? I like nice. It’s been awhile since I’ve had nice.” He ran his fingers down Shiro’s sternum, over his heart. Lost in his own thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro looked skeptical, but relaxed back into the pillows and closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Keith’s fingertips tracking up and down. “Hmm. I can be nice.” Keith nodded in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro was quiet and Keith almost dozed off again in the warm circle of Shiro’s arm when Shiro broke the silence and startled Keith back out of his half sleep.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I--?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you what?” Keith responded, letting his fingertips stray from Shiro’s breastbone to wander across his chest. He smiled when Shiro shivered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last night, after I--” Shiro trailed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith let him hang for a minute, fingers grazing Shiro’s collarbone lazily. After a suitable amount of awkward silence, he said “Did you taste me like a glass of wine after giving me the best blowjob of my life?” Keith looked up at Shiro’s face, where he was blushing furiously. “Yes. Yes you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro groaned and covered his eyes with his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith snorted into the side of Shiro’s pec. “I asked you for tasting notes and you GAVE them to me.” His body shuddered with silent laughter. “I’ll honestly never be the same. It was a defining moment in my life.” Shiro just groaned again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith stilled and reached up to peel Shiro’s hand away from his eyes. They were pained and without his hand for protection, he looked anywhere but at Keith. Keith looked from Shiro’s eyes to his mouth as he ran his thumb across Shiro’s bottom lip. His expression turned serious, and when he looked back up to Shiro’s eyes, Shiro was looking back. “I liked it Shiro. I like you. In all your nerdy, pedantic glory.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith took another couple swipes with his thumb across Shiro’s lip and then moved his hand to Shiro’s jaw and closed the distance to kiss him, long and deep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They broke, both breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith giggled. “I mean, we did just” he gestured to their mostly naked bodies, pressed up against one other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but your ex and the thing at the restaurant,....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok,I hear your concerns,” Keith interrupted. ”Now let’s review the overwhelming evidence that I do like you.” Keith looked up at Shiro to be sure he was paying attention. “Like that I followed up with you about the class,” Keith leaned up to kiss Shiro’s forehead. “And that I spent a good chunk of my day trying to find that class.” Keith dropped a kiss on the end of Shiro’s nose. “And then, even though I didn’t make it in time for the class, it was so important to me that you know I tried that I actually stalked you on the faculty directory.” He kissed Shiro’s shoulder. “And then nearly had a heart attack when you snuck up on me and gave me shit for missing class.” A kiss over his heart. “Then I spent nearly 4 hours at dinner with you that felt like 5 minutes.” A kiss over his stomach. “Then I tried to take you back to my office after intervals and got cock blocked by my ex,” Keith licked up the cut above Shiro’s left hip. “And now, it’s been weeks of consistent, uninterrupted classes and dinners, I’m here, in your bed, and we’ve ‘you know’ and cuddled and talked and you’re still not sure if I like you?” A nibble on the cut above his right hip. Keith’s knees were  planted between shiro’s at this point and his fingertips dug into his hips. He leaned low and looked up at Shiro. “Let me show you how much I like you Shiro.” He licked a wide strip up Shiro’s length. He looked up again and made eye contact. Shiro’s eyes went wide and he gave a quick nod, then closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the headboard as Keith showed him just how much he liked him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>\\ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Based on the tasting notes, Shiro didn’t taste that much different than Keith, at least so far as Keith could tell. He conceded that he didn’t have as much training or experience as Shiro, and pledged to dutifully apply himself to more practice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Any doubt left about whether I like you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if you showed me again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shook his head and looked at Shiro with skepticism, but his eyes were fond. “As many times as it takes, Shiro.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>\\</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t stop raining that whole day. Or the morning after that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro came up behind Keith as he stood at the open front door, considering the water that continued to fall from the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro pressed his chest to Keith’s back and wrapped his arms around him. He pressed his lips to the crown of Keith’s head for what had to be the hundredth time that weekend, his heart swelling a bit when the smell of his shampoo was just barely distinct over the smell of Keith. Keith leaned back into him and sighed deeply, content. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to take you home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. You want me to go?“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith felt the now-familiar rumble behind him as Shiro chuckled and then the light brush of Shiro’s lips behind his ear in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith turned in Shiro’s arms. He wanted to stay forever, but other obligations were starting to creep in at the corners of his mind. The restlessness was starting to intrude on the deep sense of calm that had permeated the last day and a half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith hadn’t been joking when he’d said that this had been nice. A reprieve from tenure review and departmental dynamics, student requests and shop set up. The first time he’d felt comfortable in his own skin since the breakdown with Romelle and the string of rebounds that came after. He felt like he could breathe. Here, with Shiro’s arms around him. </span>
</p><p>"Thank you," Keith said. "Thank you for this weekend." </p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to take you somewhere special if things worked out Friday night," Shiro responded. "I guess the weather had other ideas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This wasn’t special enough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someplace that wasn’t my house. Maybe something more neutral.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m liking not neutral.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I guess--I guess I just didn’t want to rush things."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This doesn’t feel rushed. I don’t feel rushed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Me either.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>\\</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That week, Keith came to class on Tuesday and Thursday like usual, but that’s where the similarities ended. The familiar jostling in the service lab turned to lingering touches and when Keith fed Shiro, he let his fingers slide all the way into his mouth. They skipped the restaurant in favor of Shiro’s house on Thursday, and when Keith woke up Friday morning, it was to Shiro’s warm gray eyes. Shiro swiped stray hair away from Keith’s forehead and kissed the little furrow between his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you free tomorrow?” Shiro asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. Who’s asking?” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>THE END</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fruit and yeast were heavy in the cool, dim cavern. Brick barrel vaults arched overhead and they faced what looked like a small army of wooden casks, each cask sealed with a cork.</p><p>“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?” Keith asked, squeezing Shiro’s fingers where they were tangled with his. </p><p>“Yeah. Mitch and I go way back. This was the first place I ever interned.” Shiro inhaled deeply leading Keith deeper into the room. </p><p>Keith eyed the barrels. Corks, no spigots. “Shiro, how do we get the wine out?”</p><p>Shiro held up a long glass tube, open at the top and tapered at the bottom. “With this.” He worked the cork out of the first barrel and inserted the tube. Once it was nearly all the way into the barrel, he put his thumb over the top and lifted the column, now full of wine up to the level of the liquid in the barrel.</p><p>“Glasses?”</p><p>Shiro smirked and gave his head a quick shake. Eyes on Keith he lifted the column above his head, opened his mouth and eased his thumb off the top, just enough to deposit a sizable volume of wine. Still looking at Keith and holding his finger over the top of the column to hold the remaining wine, he swished the wine in his mouth, considering, then spit it on the ground next to Keith’s feet.</p><p>“Mm. Jammy.” Shiro said with a broad smile. “Ready?” He held the wine thief toward Keith.</p><p>Keith looked skeptical, but tilted his head back and opened his mouth. Shiro’s practiced hands dropped the perfect amount of wine into Keith’s mouth. He swished, he considered, he spat, and they moved to the next barrel. Over the next couple tastes, they developed a rhythm. Shiro let Keith try a couple times to get the wine, curling his hand gently around Keith’s as he dipped into the barrel. Although Keith was a quick study, the process was not as simple as Shiro made it appear, and as they got more tipsy, Keith allowed that Shiro should definitely be the keeper of the wine thief.</p><p>“How are we drunk right now?” Keith mused on the eighth barrel. Looking behind them, it appeared that very few barrels had been tried, while an infinite number appeared to stretch before them. Keith thought he might die. He would die happy, but he’d be dead nonetheless. “We haven’t been drinking any of the wine!”</p><p>“Your tongue is the most vasculant--basu---vas-cu-lar muscle in your body.” Shiro looked concerned as he finished the sentence. This was a standard call and response type answer for this space and Shiro had delivered it flawlessly about a million times. Shiro never let himself get this tipsy. How was he so tipsy?</p><p>They both dissolved into giggles. </p><p>Barrel by barrel Shiro had gotten more handsy as well, touches on Keith’s elbow escalated to squeezes on his upper arm, turned into Shiro’s hand on Keith’s jaw as he poured the wine into Keith’s waiting mouth. Keith looked so pretty with his eyes closed and his chin tilted up, mouth open, expectant. </p><p>Keith opened his eyes just before he was about to spit and something in Shiro’s expression made him swallow. His eyes flew open and his stomach turned over.</p><p>“Uh oh. I just swallowed all that wine.”</p><p>“Maybe we should take a break.” Shiro couldn’t take his eyes off Keith’s wine stained lips. Keith flushed and his jaw worked under Shiro’s hand, trying to formulate a response. Shiro moved the thumb on Keith’s cheek to his bottom lip and Keith moaned. It echoed off the cave walls. Shiro freed up his other hand and slid it around Keith’s waist, pulling their hips together at the same time that he pressed Keith back against the nearest barrel. Keith parted his lips in invitation and Shiro slid his tongue into the warmth of Keith’s mouth. Keith tasted like the wine and something else that Shiro had never tasted before. It was intoxicating. Heady. He tried to place it and couldn’t. It was a maddening blend of pepper and jasmine and silica and whatever it was the Keith smelled like. Shiro wanted to bathe in it and he chased the flavor around Kieth's mouth, trying to pin it down. He used his hand at Keith’s jaw to tilt his head, exposing the long line of his neck, and moved his mouth to taste there, inhaling deeply. He was rewarded by another low moan from Keith as he scrabbled to stay upright against the barrel. Shiro moved his arm lower and lifted Keith with a little huff so that he was perched on top of the oak cask. Keith locked his ankles behind Shiro’s back to pull him close again. He smiled down at Shiro and then blinked in annoyance as a beam of bright light cut through the cavern from an open doorway on the other side of the cellar accompanied by a clear voice directing what was clearly the public tour group. Shiro dropped his head against Keith’s shoulder and groaned.  </p><p>Keith laughed, amused and pushed Shiro back to look him in the eye. “Let’s go home. We never get interrupted at home.”</p><p>Shiro lifted Keith off the barrel in a wine induced haze and guided him toward the exit at the opposite side of the cellar, processing Keith calling his house “home.” </p><p>Black was parked in the shade of a pepper tree at the edge of the gravel staff parking lot, nearly deserted on a Saturday afternoon. </p><p>Shiro paused with his hand on the driver’s side door handle. “You know, I actually don’t think I can drive, and you probably shouldn’t either.”</p><p>“I have an idea.” Keith moved to the rear passenger door and rummaged under the seat until he emerged with the blankets Shiro kept there. He scrambled into the truck bed and used the blankets to construct an impromptu nest, patting the spot next to him once it was complete. Shiro climbed up and laid down where Keith indicated. He looked up through the tree’s canopy and Keith snuggled into his side. </p><p>Shiro had a lot of good memories of this place, but this day, even with its interruptions, was rapidly overtaking them all. He looked down to tell Keith as much--to tell him he wanted more days like this, more days with him--but Keith was already asleep, late afternoon sun filtering through the shifting leaves of the pepper tree to dance across his resting features.</p><p> </p><p>\\</p><p> </p><p>Allura's expression was amused as Shiro fiddled with his protein drink across from her. </p><p>“And where have you been all week Professor Shirogane. I can’t remember the last time you missed a Friday morning class.”</p><p>Shiro had never been good at keeping secrets, especially from Allura. When he looked up, he was blushing so hard Allura crowed. </p><p>“Oh, he’s got you now Takashi Shirogane. You are gotten. And about time, too.” </p><p> </p><p>\\</p><p> </p><p>Shiro floated through clean-up that Tuesday like he had for the last month, Keith’s presence at his side, the soft touches and promise of take out and dinner at home with Keith making his mood buoyant. There were still several weeks left in the semester, but Shiro was thinking ahead to Spring and how he could fit more of this--more of Keith--into his schedule. Keith had been a little tense the last week, the pressures of tenure review mounting as he rounded out his first semester, but Shiro was confident that the committee would recognize the incredible things that Keith was doing in the classroom and the lab, and that Keith would relax once he cleared this first hurdle.  </p><p>“Think you want to come to the intermediate or advanced classes next semester?” </p><p>“You think I’m ready for that, oh great arbiter of tasting?” </p><p>“I mean, you’ve blown through the training wheels class.” Shiro said matter-of-factly. “I’m pretty sure you can handle the next level.”</p><p>“I’m in the training wheels class?” Keith did his best to sound mock offended. </p><p>“All the “‘I’m more of a beer person’ people” get the training wheels class,” Shiro said absently, focused on getting the last of the water out of the bottom of a beaker. </p><p>Shiro knew he’d said something wrong as soon as the last word left his mouth. The feel in the room went from convivial to tense in the span of 14 words. He turned to look at Keith and Keith had set the glassware he’d been drying on the counter. He was uncharacteristically still. </p><p>Shiro reached for him. “Keith are you ok.” </p><p>“All?” He asked, looking at the wall directly in front of him.</p><p>“Keith?”</p><p>“As in, you’ve done this before? Like, more than once?”</p><p>Shiro felt the situation getting away from him. </p><p>“Keith. I’ve invited lots of people to come to class, but every experience is unique, individual. This, what this is,” Shiro gestured between himself and Keith, “is really special.” It didn’t sound right when he said it, but he was too scared to say what he really meant. Scared that the real words, the true words--that he’d invited other people before, but he never wanted to invite anyone else to class ever again, that he thought maybe Keith was it for him--would chase Keith even farther away than if he thought there were others.  </p><p>“God, I’ve been so stupid,” Keith whispered. </p><p>“What? No. Keith.”</p><p>“I’m just some flavor of the semester.” He laughed mirthlessly.</p><p>“No. Keith. Please. That’s not what this is.”</p><p>“I’ve already spent too much time here. I should be focusing on my work. Gods, I knew this was a bad idea.” Keith moved toward the door, wiping at his eyes and looking anywhere but at Shiro. </p><p>Shiro held his hands out to Keith, begging him to stay, to talk, to understand. When Keith put his first foot outside the door, Shiro decided to go for broke. </p><p>“Keith, please don’t go! I think I love you. Please stay. Please don’t go.” </p><p>When Keith finally looked up at Shiro his face was wrecked, his eyes stormy and clouded. “I bet you say that to all of us,” he hissed as he stepped the rest of the way through the door and disappeared into the hallway. </p><p>“No.” Shiro sobbed, stunned. He backed into the wall. “No, Keith, no. Baby, how could you think that?” </p><p>He tried to get in touch with him. He wouldn’t return calls or texts or emails. He didn’t show up at the end of class on Thursday and dinner that night tasted like ash in Shiro’s mouth. He went by Keith’s office. His apartment. His lab. Nothing. It was like he had disappeared. </p><p>//</p><p>Allura’s chin rested on her hand. “I hardly think this had anything to do with you. It sounds like he just got overwhelmed and you were the easiest thing for him to…” Allura waved her other hand, searching for the right word. “Put on hold,” she finally decided. </p><p>Shiro took a deep breath and stared into the depths of his tea. “I wish he would just talk to me Allura.” </p><p>Allura sat through the silence and waited for Shiro to continue. </p><p>“I mean, how dare he? He didn’t even try to understand. Didn’t give me any kind of chance to explain. I should just let him go, if he can’t even be bothered to, what, communicate?”</p><p>Allura reached into her bag for a pack of tissues. </p><p>“I just miss him so much. I’ve tried to will it away or forget the way it feels to walk into the kitchen to see him folded into one of the kitchen chairs, gnawing on a piece of toast while he reads the paper. Or leaning over Black’s engine wearing one of my pajama shirts with a coffee in his hand, or just sleeping next to me in bed.”</p><p>Shiro wiped at the corner of his eye with the back of his hand and Allura pushed the pack of tissues across the table. </p><p>“I want it back. I want it /all/ back. And if I’m honest, I’m mad at him for taking himself away. For being so important to me that before him I was doing just fine thankyouverymuch and then he came along and made everything burn a little brighter and more special and...and now how I am supposed to go back, Allura? How am I supposed to breathe?  He's like my air now and he’s taken himself away. He’s just gone and, and how am I supposed to breathe?” </p><p>Allura reached across the table and covered Shiro’s hand gently with her own. </p><p>“One breath at a time, love. One. Breath at a time.” It wasn’t what Shiro wanted to hear, but when he looked up to meet Allura’s eyes, they were gentle. “Maybe he didn’t know how to deal and something in him told him that you would wait. That it was safe for him to lose it with you when it’s not safe for him to lose it anywhere else.”</p><p>Shiro’s relaxed a bit. </p><p>“Of course, it could also just be over.” Allura’s hand stroked once apologetically over Shiro’s before she withdrew it. “We won’t know until Keith comes back. If Keith comes back.” </p><p>//</p><p>Shiro decided  to try Keith’s lab one last time. When he knocked, a stern-looking older woman with familiar eyes stepped into the hallway and gently closed the door behind her.</p><p>“You must be Shiro.” </p><p>“You’ll have to forgive me, ma'am....” </p><p>"I’m Krolia Kogane, Keith’s mom, and you can call me Dr. Kogane or Krolia. Either are fine."</p><p>"Dr. Kogane, Krolia, is Keith available? Can I speak to him?”</p><p>“I’m afraid now isn’t a good time, Shiro. But I’d be happy to take a message.”</p><p>Shiro swore he could see Keith silhouetted in the frosted glass panel of the door, listening. He looked at the silhouette over Dr. Kogane’s shoulder and said  “Dr. Kogane, could you let Keith know that I’m sorry. That I never meant to hurt him. That I love him. And whenever he’s ready, I would love to hear from him.” He stopped pretending to talk to Keith’s mother and broadcast everything at the door, when he finally said, “Baby, I’m sorry, please forgive me, I love you, thank you.” </p><p>Shiro decided it was all he could do.</p><p>He turned again to face Keith’s mother. “Nice to meet you Dr. Kogane.” </p><p>Then he walked away, resigned to wait. </p><p> </p><p>//</p><p>Shiro’s intro course had a  routine. Every time a door opened in the last 15 minutes of class, Shiro would visibly start and look to the door, to the extent that the entire class turned to see if the handsome man in black, Dr. Kogane, Keith, was waiting at the back of the room. In the last two weeks of class, though, it was never anyone of consequence, the professor looked deeply disappointed, and class continued. By the time the end of the semester final class and pot-luck rolled around, the door rarely opened, professor Shirogane stopped looking up at the door when it did, and the students only rarely looked. </p><p>The last class of the semester ended, and what was normally a celebratory class felt vaguely funereal. The students had cleared the last of their potluck tastings from the lab benches and were packing their things away to depart when a choked sob cut through the subdued chatter. The back door had opened, and after weeks, Keith was standing in the back of the classroom. The students froze. Professor Shirogane was leaning heavily on the lectern, eyes fixed on Keith. When no one else moved, Keith started toward the front of the classroom. All eyes tracked his confident steps as he approached the lectern and the professor crumpled into his arms. The man murmured something to Shiro and stroked his hair. They pulled back to look at one another and then the man leaned in to kiss away Shiro’s tears and then his mouth. </p><p>The class transitioned from shocked silence to raucous shouts and whistles. </p><p>“What does he taste like?!?!?” A bold student called out. </p><p>Shiro and Keith parted, blushing, as though they were both just realizing that the class was still there. Then Keith got a mischievous look and leaned back in. He kissed and considered. He made the same face that he had seen the students, and Shiro, make. Shiro blushed and Keith smiled wider. </p><p>“Hmmmm.” he considered theatrically. </p><p>The students started shouting suggestions: “Tobacco!” “Earth!” “Coffee!” “Leather!” “Grapefruit!” </p><p>Keith leaned in to kiss Shiro again, then pressed his forehead to Shiro’s. “Home,” he whispered for only Shiro to hear. “He tastes like home.” </p><p>He looked up and Shiro’s eyes were shining. “I’m sorry, please forgive me, I love you, thank you.” Keith’s hands were pressed to either side of Shiro’s face so that he couldn’t look away, although he hadn’t even tried. If it were up to Shiro, he’d never look away again. “I love you, Shiro.” </p><p>The class erupted in whistles and catcalls and Shiro finally came back to himself and shifted into classroom control mode, sniffling a little in between directions. “Alright people. Alright. Nothing to see here. Final projects are due next week. Come by office hours if you need help or shoot me an email. Preferably more than 24 hrs before the project is due.” </p><p>He looked at Keith out of the corner of his eye and knew he’d found home, too.</p><p>\\ </p><p>Newly tenured, Keith came to the backyard to sit next to Shiro by the firepit. He had a glass of white wine in his hand. Shiro raised an eyebrow. Keith looked defeated “Fine, I’m a suburban housewife.” Shiro gathered him into his arms and then raised his glass from where it was sitting on the stone beside him. “Guess that makes two of us.” They both dissolved into laughter. </p><p>And lived happily ever after.</p>
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